


Volunteer Day

by Aithilin



Series: NyxNoct Week 2020 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, NyxNoct Week 2020, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Noctis had not expected to be led into a full fledged autumn holiday, or be put to work with the Glaives.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Series: NyxNoct Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939900
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31
Collections: NyxNoct Week 2020





	Volunteer Day

The weather in the vast city of Insomnia varied area to area, sometimes district to district or even street to street when the seasons were being particularly volatile. The seasons swept across the city in waves carried by the changing winds and barely controlled by the Wall that protected the kingdom. Noctis recalled the summer heats rolling through the shining streets around his apartment while Nyx texted him from the raining and sullen greys of the Galahdian district; and spring mornings when Prompto would send him images of glorious cherry blossoms along his street, when the ancient trees in the Citadel had just started to bud. 

But autumn seemed to be the most drastic shift between the districts; the chill winds moving in from the northern coasts chased through the Galahdian and Cavaugh districts like they meant to bring furious cold rains while the southern coasts of the city— sheltered by the towering fortifications that encompassed even the ports and reinforced the shimmering Wall— still basked in the remnants of summer with its golden beaches and festive flair. 

“What do you mean you’ve never done it before?”

The difference in timing for each season meant that the festivals looked very different when celebrated in each area. 

“It’s not really a thing here,” Noctis defended his understanding of how festivals and seasons were meant to be celebrated by virtue of having grown up in the heart of the city. Every other aspect of life in Insomnia was held up against the public view of the Citadel. Spring started when its gardens were in bloom, summer ended when the Skywalk between the towers was closed due to the autumn winds. The rains and sleet dragged in by the ocean was not something experienced with the same frequency as the coastal districts, but the dust storms advanced across the gates by Leide never reached as far as the districts where many refugees had settled. “Near the Citadel, I mean.”

Travel advisories and weather reports scrolled across the screens lining the entrances to the trains between advertisements and newsfeeds. Seasonal flooding had receded in the lower river districts, the high winds of the mountainous areas housing the nobility had closed the parks early as the storms ravaged the delicate summer decorations. But neither of them paid any attention to the steady stream of information as they descended the steps with the busy weekend crowds. 

Despite the understanding that the city was too big to just be one district or jurisdiction, Noctis was always amazed that he could go into the tunnels in one area with one set of weather— the Citadel’s balmy last breaths of summer clinging to the shining stores and offices, and radiating off the concrete plazas— and emerge in an entirely different season. 

While the Galahdian district— the place where Nyx and others who had fled their home islands like him had settled— stretched nearly to the Citadel, it reached as far as the northeastern fortifications and the eastern Gate, melding into the area of the city where more and more Cavaugh families had settled. It included the farming lands nestled into those tips of Insomnia’s diamond, owned by Lucians but managed by the more skilled Galahd and Cavaugh refugees. Emerging from the inherently metropolitan train routes out to the forested and colourful farming destination of the district was always a shock. 

Noctis had only been out that way a handful of times before— as a child to welcome other children to some festival or another, and again with his friends on some excursion where the distinct separation of city and farm was less of a sudden contrast and more eased in as they travelled the busy roads above. 

“It’s a thing in Galahd,” Nyx had said, smiling as they moved through the cheerful crowd both coming and going at the station. “It’ll be fun.”

Posters were everywhere for the holiday. Posted alongside the Lucian screens with their endless reports on weather and road closures. An hour ago in the heart of the city, the bright orange and red and yellow of the posters and pamphlets were garish smears of colour against the sleek glass and chrome Noctis was more familiar with. But out here, with the chill in the wind carried over the towering walls containing the city to ruffle the bright colour of the leaves, the posters seemed to blend in. 

The avenue leading to the wealthier residential houses was busy— trucks bearing harvests of grain, corn, pumpkin blocked off entire sections of road in tandem with city markers and the occasional person in a Lucian uniform— with traffic being directed and moved as more and more pedestrians followed the sounds of music and smell of open fires. The trees in every yard were splashes of bright colours where two hours away the green of summer was still predominant. 

Noctis followed Nyx through the crowd, realizing belatedly that this was more than just a weekend harvest festival. 

“What is all this, anyway?” he asked as Nyx slowed enough to catch his hand and tug him along through the crowd. 

“New Years,” Nyx answered, nodding to one of the bright banners still being strung up across the wide roads. Closed to vehicles, the street had filled with people visiting the area. Signs erected between bales of bound, brittle hay directed people to parks and down long lanes lined by the colourful trees; all painted the same— a greeting for the new year and characters Noctis didn’t recognize. “For us, at least.”

That explained, Noctis thought as Nyx led him down one of the long lanes toward a ranch, that there were people giving out packets and cards and candies like a Lucian New Years party. Little bags stuffed with treats carried the same unfamiliar greetings as the signs, coupons and advertisements spilling out as children took as many of the gifts as they could from every patient stall keeper that lined the streets. Between counters of food and drinks were games and boards pinned with prizes, costumes and buskers moved the crowd from one direction to another, and the air buzzed with the shouts and cheers and laughter of the people simply moving through to the main attractions. 

They had arrived early enough, the sun was just peeking over the stone walls containing the city, but it already seemed like half the city was there with them. The lane that Nyx had taken him down opened to the freshly harvested fields now overrun with attractions and events; stalls spread out like a market to one side, mazes were raised with bales of hay and bundled stalks of corn to the other. Games and contests were already in full swing, and barkers announced updates to programs and concerts that would be held at various times of the day and in different fields or venues closer to the main avenue. 

“Is it always this crazy?” Noctis squeezed Nyx’s hand and moved closer as the Glaive led him through along the lane. 

“It gets worse,” Nyx’s grin was infectious and paused long enough to get his bearings in the crowd. There was a quick muttering before they were off again, pausing only for the people moving in starts and stops like them. 

When they passed through the gauntlet approach, the world seemed to suddenly be ablaze with colours. Nyx led him down one of the narrow paths through a grove of trees and toward a viewing platform that seemed largely ignored. Vendors with treats and snacks were just opening below it, the smell filled with fire and grease and the distinct flavours of cooking apples and peeled citrus. Noctis paused at the sudden peace and heard the shout of greeting from the tables still being set out for what he assumed was to be the seating for meals as the day wore on. 

Libertus waved to them, the first familiar face from the crowd, already setting up a stand of plastic knives and forks. “His Highness had better be here to help out.”

“I am,” Noctis agreed, and found his arms suddenly full of folding chairs as he was wrenched away from Nyx. 

Crowe dragged him across the platform to a spot where the trees were barely hanging over the railing, the colourful leaves skittering across the stained wood like confetti. “Happy New Year, Highness. I hoped Nyx warned you.”

He hadn’t. Not really. 

He hadn’t been prepared for the people coming and going, or the amused looks he was getting from familiar Glaives rushing about their own tasks. Nyx had told him the basics, but not the extent of just what the Glaives had been doing for their community for years. 

Noctis found that the Glaives had all volunteered their time for the event until the Citadel relented and sent the funding for the platform, the food, the presence as a goodwill gesture for the refugees. Noctis knew that there was probably no way his father had known the extent of the festival. The restaurant set up at the platform was a Glaive favourite— reset and settled in with a mobile kitchen just out of immediate view. The Glaive banner was no where in sight, but Galahdian streamers and banners were everywhere.

Noctis let himself be led from task to task, watching as Nyx was pulled between setting up the kitchen and ensuring the lines for when it did open were clearly marked. Standing precariously on the railing with a line of flags apparently representing different provinces within Galahd itself ready to be tied around the nearest branch of the overhanging tree, Noctis smiled at the sight of Nyx and Libertus arguing over the placement of signs on the ground below. 

Crowe tied off her end of the string and grinned; “He’s in his element down there; fighting with Libs over how to get people fed.”

“He used to run a bar, right?” Noctis tied off his own end at the height she indicated. 

“That’s right,” Crowe offered a hand to help him down despite the reputation he knew he had among the Glaive. “Both of them together. They always threw the biggest parties back home, kept the whole town fed for a week if they could.”

“They’re not cooking this time, are they?”

“Never put those two in a kitchen together,” Drautos’ voice was softer than Noctis remembered ever hearing it. Out of uniform, the man was far less imposing, even as he carried coolers stacked on top of each other up the steps to the platform. Noctis could hear the drinks and ice sloshing around inside them; “Glad you could come, Noctis.”

The drop of his title was a comfort, and Noctis smiled in greeting; “Glad to be invited. What do you need me to do?”

“Keep Nyx from trying to take over that damned kitchen, for one.” Drautos waved off his offer to take one of the coolers, dropping them both in a corner for sorting. “Go have fun. If the place isn’t ready by now, then it’s not going to be ready.”

Following the Captain’s good natured orders had been easy. Nyx was easily pulled away with a tug to his arm and a quick peck and plea to see the rest of what was happening beyond this little corner of the field. 

There would be no day off like with Lucian holidays; the next weekday would be in full swing whether they were ready or not for the quick recovery they would have to do. But for the weekend, Noctis could see the ease and enjoyment of the community gathering around him. Games, food, costumes, music, it would all culminate in family— found or not— gathered over a good meal while prominent community members made speeches for the good will of the next year.


End file.
